Recursion
by Jixie
Summary: In a peaceful future, the reformed Dr. Wily now works for Dr. Light. He's been unable to repair Bass, damaged by his creator's own insidious program. When his counterpart arrives from the past, Wily is ready to strike a deal. It's a hideous betrayal, sacrificing Light's son to save his own. But faced with such a terrible choice... what father wouldn't do the same? - One shot.


**Recursion**

By Jixie 8/2019

Mega Man © Capcom

* * *

"It should execute, but whenever I run the subroutine, that same blasted error—"

Wily fell silent, listening.

"Ah, yes. Yes!" After a few minutes of frantic typing, he saved and recompiled his work. With bated breath he tried again, letting out a sigh of relief when the fix worked perfectly. "You're a genius," he said with a grin.

Software engineers call it 'the rubber duck method'. When stuck on a bad problem, explain it step by step to a rubber duck or other inanimate object.

It was surprisingly effective.

* * *

"Morning, Dr. Wily. Hey, Bass."

It always amused him how agreeable Dr. Light's robots were to the situation. Rock— who'd been retired from Mega Man for longer than he'd been 'on duty'— and Roll were still a little cautious about Wily, but they'd completely accepted Bass as one of their own. This went double for Blues, when he was around.

It made sense. Like Rock's alter ego, Bass had officially spent more time with Dr. Light than he had with his creator.

After a long stint in prison— which, honestly, it was a miracle they ever let him out— Wily was able to reunite with his surrogate child. The long-suffering Dr. Light had given him a job at Light Robotics Laboratory, in spite of his past. He was in software development now, legally banned from working in robotics directly, although Thomas always looked the other way when Wily spent time on his pet project.

After fifteen years, chance of success had grown increasingly slim.

"Hello, Roll," Wily said.

She gave him a quick nod and walked over to Bass, smiling as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, then patted his shoulder. "Working hard, or hardly working?" she teased.

As usual there was no response, blank stare matching his blank expression. With humans they called it 'catatonic' or 'persistent vegetative state', with tech it was simply 'bricked'.

* * *

If you had told Albert Wily that he'd grow to love a robot like a son, he'd have died of laughter. Even free-thinking robots were tools, not people, and especially not family members. He'd looked down at the sentimental old fool Thomas Light with condescending disgust.

And yet here they were.

It took years, and had been a tough road, but somewhere, somehow, Bass had eroded the walls that Wily worked so hard to put up. It was inexplicable, really: it wasn't like Bass had been exactly _lovable_ or easy to get along with. He was, in short, a pain in the tochus. But he'd been a persistent pain, demanding, tenacious.

Wily hadn't appreciated their bond at the time, not really. It was true, that saying. You don't know what you've got until it's gone.

When it was gone, when Wily ruined everything… it was as if part of his soul had been ripped away. He'd lost so much over his lifetime, but he'd never felt grief so absolutely crushing. The worst part about it was that he had no one but himself to blame.

Wily shrugged his coat up over his shoulders, straightened the collar. As usual he was the last to leave. It wasn't like he had family waiting for him at home. "Goodnight," he said to Bass before hitting the lights. "I'll be back tomorrow."

* * *

There were good days. Few and far between, a couple times a month— and then only if they were lucky— when the stars aligned and the digital gods heard their prayers and the computer faeries paid a visit.

"…wily."

He moved as quickly as his arthritic knees would take him. "I'm here. I'm right here."

Bass tracked Wily as he approached, which was a good sign. It meant his visual input was functioning, and that always made things easier.

They'd propped Bass in a sturdy desk chair, which had turned out to be the easiest thing to do with him. It was fine as long as he didn't try to move around too much. He hadn't budged yet, but…

"Stay put," Wily said. "Good." He ran his fingers through Bass's hair with one hand, cradling his chin with the other. "Good. I'm here now."

He wasn't very reassuring, but compared to Thomas, no one was. It wasn't fair.

"wh… what…"

"Your system was badly damaged." Ruined. "It's malfunctioning, but stable." Destroyed, and it wasn't getting any worse, but it wasn't getting any better either. "It was a bug, and it really scrambled your circuits." A kill-switch, a self-destruct utility woven into the very foundation of his programming by Wily, and it had done _exactly_ what it was designed to do. Ruthless, efficient, irreversible.

How many times had they been through this?

How many more times had Dr. Light and Roll been through this?

Bass understood, but was having trouble communicating.

"It wasn't your fault," Wily said, knowing what always followed. "It was just a stupid, stupid accident." Now _that_ was a gross exaggeration of the facts, but it was close enough for now. There was no need to upset Bass any more than he was. "I'm glad you're awake. Look!"

Reaching down, Wily grabbed hold of Bass's wrists, lifting his hands up to his line of vision.

"I gave you that upgrade you asked for. No armor. It's a good look, yes?"

Bass glanced down at himself the best he could. "mhmm." He shuddered, and Wily grabbed his shoulders.

"Please don't try to move."

"can't…"

"I know. But if you try you'll fall over and I can't pick you up, now can I? You'll be stuck on the floor until…" He drifted off, seeing that Bass was reaching the end of his rope.

"my… _nn_… clock." His features twitched, brows furrowing slightly.

"It's— your internal clock is correct. It happened… years ago. It's been years." Years and years.

Wily braced himself. There it was: that dawning fear and horror in his eyes as Bass realized just how completely screwed he was.

"no."

"It's okay."

It wasn't.

"_nnno_."

"I'm sorry."

It wasn't enough. It was never enough.

Bass's gaze drifted off to the side. Defeated.

"I'm so sorry," Wily said again, and it was just as hollow and pathetic as it was the last hundred times.

After an uneasy pause Bass tried to say something else, failed, and gave up.

Wily knew the script by heart. The next lines were not his, they were Dr. Light's, but they were too good not to use.

"Machines that don't work have no value, so they're scrapped. But people always have value, no matter how broken they may be. We don't scrap people."

He saw Bass's confusion and let out a bitter laugh. "We've had this conversation before."

"oh."

They sat together in silence, until Bass was too worn out to keep going.

"can, can i…"

"Of course you can power down if you like." He leaned down, planting a kiss on the robot's forehead. "I'll be here."

* * *

Twenty six minutes. Not bad.

* * *

The weeks after had been a blur. Wily's strongest, most vivid memories both involved Blues— Proto Man.

He'd been in the middle of an attempted world takeover, with Mega Man stubbornly destroying his Robot Masters one by one, along with the help of Proto Man and Bass. Scrambling to put the finishing touches on his massive skull-themed war machine, he was shocked and furious when Proto Man teleported into the heart of Wily's lab. How had he broken through the forcefield? Then he realized Proto Man was carrying Bass in his arms— he must've used Bass's teleporter. And it was…

…it was like getting _that_ call in the middle of the night, the ragged breathing and somber voice on the other side, telling you before a word is spoken that someone has died.

"I found him like this, I don't know how long…"

For the rest of his days Wily would marvel at the fact that Proto Man had come straight to him, instead of Dr. Light.

He couldn't remember how everything else had been shut down, how he'd dropped his evil plot mid-way, how he'd managed to slip Mega Man and the law.

Weeks later Proto Man was back, although how he'd gotten in that second time was a mystery. Checking in, expecting some positive news, he found Dr. Wily hard at work on a chassis rebuild. Even behind the shades, Wily could see his concerned expression change to one of bitter disappointment.

"I— a little while ago he'd asked me to do a rebuild," Wily said. "To take his armor off and— and dress like a human, like you and your brother and sister do. I refused, because it's foolish and dangerous, and…" He paused, setting the heat gun down on the table. "I should've done it. I'm right, it's a bad idea, but— but it would have meant a lot to him. He doesn't ask for much."

Without comment, Proto Man walked around to the other side of the work table, and started helping Wily fuse synthetic skin to the bare metal.

"What are you doing?"

At that point Proto Man gave him a wry grin. "Before he was Mega Man, Rock was a lab assistant, and before he was built, I was a lab assistant."

Wily laughed unevenly, and they didn't speak again after that. Proto Man assisted him until the work was done. Afterwards, Wily had sunk down to the floor, his back against the table legs, and wept. Much to his surprise, Proto Man sat down next to him, and while there was no comforting touch or reassuring words, he stayed with him, which was frankly more than Wily deserved.

* * *

So much of his life had been routine, but he'd traded 'try to take over the world, fail, hide, rebuild, and try, try again' for 'work, sleep, tinker with Bass's programming'.

His dreams and goals— the things that had once meant so much to him— were long forgotten. His rivalry with Thomas tossed aside. His drive and ambition had died a sudden, violent death. And Bass, who had been so full of piss and vinegar, who never quit and never backed down, was now small and fragile and broken.

"You shouldn't eat at your computer, Dr. Wily," Rock said gently. "You need to take a break, have lunch, stretch your legs…"

Rock was everything Bass wasn't. Friendly, understanding, patient, caring. So very, very _lovable_. It was a testament to how much of a heartless monster Wily had been, that he could hate someone as genuinely lovable as Rock Light.

"Yes, yes, yes, I know," Wily replied, shooing him off.

On his way out of the computer lab Rock swung over to where Bass was, leaning forward and whispering in the other robot's ear. He was constantly doing that kind of thing. Sharing corny jokes, inane little stories, random musings that had popped into his head. He talked to him almost as much as Wily did.

At the end of the day, Wily shut down his terminal, said goodnight to Bass, and shut off the lights.

* * *

Time heals all, and when Wily got out of prison, that open wound had scabbed over. The pain never really went away, but it had lessened to a dull ache.

Except the first time he'd been there for one of Bass's good days, had that brief, stilted conversation they would keep having over and over…

…Wily discovered it hadn't healed at all, and the scab sloughed off, revealing the festering sore beneath.

* * *

After hours, everyone else having long since headed home for the night, there was the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Wily startled as the sound grew closer, glancing around to see if there was anything he could defend himself with.

One of his coworkers must've left their keys or wallet or something. He was being paranoid. Nevertheless. Wily grabbed his cane, and centered himself, ready for anything.

Anything but _this_.

Dr. Wily peered into the lab, hoping that someone had accidentally left the lights on, but expecting to find Dr. Light working late. He barked with laughter when he found… himself.

The older Wily, standing next to a computer terminal, dropped his cane in surprise.

They studied each other for a moment.

"Ha! I couldn't understand why none of the alarms went off. It's because of you. You gave up, didn't you? You're weak and you threw in the towel."

This intruder, another Dr. Wily, a younger one. He had to be… what, in his late forties, early fifties? It was a little hard to tell, actually. Wily had aged fast— started graying and balding in his thirties— but then not much had changed after, his appearance stayed pretty consistent well into his seventies.

Even now, pushing eighty, he didn't look all that different. There were wrinkles and age spots, his hair trimmed short, he had a cane and a hearing aid. He'd lost half an inch in height.

How had he _ever_ thought letting his hair grow long was a good idea? It looked ridiculous. It certainly didn't make up for the barren scalp up top.

"It was a lot more complicated than that," he said in his defense. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"Finding a way to destroy Mega Man, what else?"

_How_ could he have ever hated Rock?

Mega Man had been a real pest, but more than that, he'd represented Dr. Light's accomplishments triumphing over his own.

Dr. Light— Thomas— who hadn't hesitated even for a second. Who took Bass in and poured his heart and soul into repairing him, as if it were his own child. Who was able to get Bass to function at all, something Wily himself had been unable to do.

Without Thomas there were no good days. No conversations, regardless how brief and repetitive. No powered on and running, even if it was in a locked-up state.

It was impossible to repay Thomas for all that he'd done.

What could he say to this younger self, angry and desperate and with so much to prove?

If he tried to explain, he'd lose him. This other Wily would think he's gone senile. He had to tread carefully.

"The only one who can defeat Mega Man is Mega Man."

This earned a scoff.

"Listen. I realize you've had a lifetime of failure, and it's caused you to lose your nerve. But if we combined our efforts— your experience with my drive, we could achieve things together that we'd never accomplish on our own."

The older Wily just shook his head. This plan was doomed before it even began. Couldn't he see that?

"I can't help your past. But when I destroy Mega Man there will be nothing to stand in my way. I'll rule this miserable planet with an iron fist, and prove once and for all that Dr. Light is nothing but a hack. As for _you_, you can live vicariously through me, knowing that in some timeline you were finally able to show them all."

A chill ran up his spine. This naive fool had no idea what he'd just said, but the significance hit Wily with full force.

He couldn't change his past.

But he could prevent this future.

He burst into laughter.

"What?" asked the other Wily, growing irate.

"It… it's just such a relief… I'm the bad ending. Don't you see? This is _the bad ending_. None of this has to happen!"

Thinking they were talking about the same thing, younger Wily's eyes lit up. The older Wily was on a completely different wavelength: he could save his son.

"You work for Dr. Light. Reformed?"

"Yes. I'm in software development."

"Even better than I'd hoped!" Then he shook his head. "It's appalling that you'd have to hold a job at this age."

"It's not for the money. You know we can never sit still for long."

"Hmm." A cruel smile crept across his face. "And Rock trusts you?"

"Of course." His mouth went dry as he pieced together what his counterpart was thinking.

This was wrong.

This was _wrong_.

Yet… all he could think about was the way Bass flashed his fangs when he grinned. It was always a wicked grin, an impish expression, barely contained excitement at any chance to cause mayhem.

It had been over fifteen years since he last saw that smile.

Unable to help it, Wily shot a quick glance over at the robot. The younger Wily followed his gaze.

"A collaborative effort between you and Dr. Light?"

It was a reasonable guess. Bass was very much a Light design with Wily's aesthetic flair.

"No. No, he's all mine." Bending over Wily grabbed his cane, then made his way to Bass. "I copied Mega Man's schematics and programming as closely as possible, which is why there's a resemblance."

Careful. Don't use the word 'son'. Don't use the word 'love'. Don't screw this up.

"I'll help you, on one condition. Some day you will build this robot…" He placed a hand between Bass's shoulders.

"Once Mega Man is gone, I won't have to."

Wily pursed his lips. "Well." There was no chance this overly optimistic screwball was going to win. "If for some reason it doesn't pan out, you'll build this robot. As a precaution, you decide to write a fail-safe routine into his programming."

The other Wily raised an eyebrow.

"That's what's wrong with him?"

"…Yes. I— I did this to him." With his free hand he grabbed the other Wily's shoulder. "There's no need for the fail-safe. He's going to fight you, but he'd never harm you. It's— it's not— it was triggered by accident. _Don't do it_. Just don't do it."

Slowly looking from the older Wily to Bass and back, the younger Wily was skeptical. "What's this robot to you, that this is all you ask from me?"

"Heh. You're just going to have to trust me on this. He's terrible, and he's going to drive you nuts. But what will drive you even more nuts is— is how much—"

_Don't say 'love' don't say 'love' don't say 'love'._

"— how much you care."

Too far. It was still too far. He's going to lose him.

Doubtful and a little disgusted, the younger Wily stared at Bass for a moment. A broken, inanimate machine, a useless tool that should be scrapped. How had his life gone so wrong that his older self would be this eager to save a worthless robot?

Then he shrugged. _He_ would never get so mixed up that he'd get attached to a robot like that. It wasn't his problem, and if it got him what he needed, then he had no trouble agreeing to the ridiculous terms.

They shook hands.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Dr. Wily."

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Dr. Wily."

* * *

_Bass approached quietly, and leaned up against the work table where Wily was completing the 'upgrades' on Blast Man. He put his elbows on the table top and propped his chin in his hands, watching as Wily did his work._

_Wily didn't acknowledge him. He was still irritated over Bass's last tantrum, destroying his Robot Masters alongside Mega Man._

_After a few minutes Bass gave him an intense look._

_"Hey Wily. What would you say are the top two hardest problems in computer science?"_

_"Hmmm?" He arched an eyebrow, glancing up at the robot. Usually Wily was the one who 'talked shop', Bass understood but didn't have any real interest in topics of software or mechanics… unless they related to new upgrades for him. He thought about it for a moment. "Well, I suppose I'd have to say—"_

_"Naming, cache invalidation, and off-by-one bugs."_

_Confused, Wily stared at him._

_Then one corner of his lip slowly turned up. "Heh." It grew into a real smile. "He he he!" And then…_

_"Bwah ha ha ha ha haah ha!" Wily shook with laughter._

_Bass broke into a toothy grin, showing off his fanged canines. It was one of Wily's favorite little decorative flourishes, one that told you 'here comes trouble'._

_"What's a computer's favorite beat?" Wily asked him._

_"An algorhythm," Bass replied, chuckling._

_They continued trading cheesy, goofy, terribly nerdy jokes. Before long Wily was doubled over with laughter, and he grabbed Bass's arm to steady himself._

_"You want to hear a real joke? 'Machine Learning'."_

_"Aha ha ha! Good one! Failure— heh— failure is not an option… it's bundled with the software."_

_"Heh heh heh!"_

_As he straightened up, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, it struck him._

_Oh crap._

_Bass's laughter petered out as he noticed the strange look Wily was giving him. "What?"_

_"N-nothing. It's nothing."_

_Somehow… _somehow_… it had happened. Slow and insidious, so that he hadn't noticed until it was too late._

_He'd felt before that he and Bass were, in a twisted way, something like a family. It now occurred to him that he really did love this shitty robot as a son. They weren't _like_ a family— they _were_ a family._

_A conflicting look clouded his features: one of both paternal love and extreme exasperation._

_Bass scooted back a little, but Wily kept hold of his arm._

_"I…" He still couldn't say it out loud. "You know, I…" Searching for some other way to express it, he drew a blank. Bass caught on, but of course, he was just as incapable of demonstrating his feelings as Wily was._

_There was a brief standoff._

_Then Bass caved. Warily he stepped forward, and to Wily's astonishment, gave him a hasty, tentative, clumsy, slack, barely-even-there hug._

_He broke away within a fraction of a second, awkwardly scrambling backwards. "Um, I— I gotta go, uh, do a thing." With that, Bass fled the room._

_Wily just stood there dumbfounded, a dazed 'deer in the headlights' expression on his face._

* * *

"Rock, are you busy?"

"Not really." He shrugged and headed over to Wily. "What's up?"

"I… well, I don't want to get ahead of myself. But I think… it's promising…" He faltered. "Thomas already reviewed the code, and he said it _looks_ sound. Of course, we've written up a lot of good looking code that still didn't— didn't—"

Rock placed a comforting hand on Wily's shoulder. "If anyone's going to crack this, it'll be you, Dr. Wily." His smile was hesitant— he was trying to be reassuring, but knew how hopeless things were. "How can I help?"

"Ah. Well. I don't want to bother you, but I'd really like to run some simulations first, test the waters so to speak. And your programming— hardware as well— is… is close to… well, you know…"

"I understand. It's not a problem." He paused for a second. "Ummm, Dr. Light needed me this afternoon, so maybe we can do your tests after work?"

Wily smiled warmly. "Of course!"

"Alright." This time he offered a genuine smile. "See you in the evening."

* * *

It was too easy. Disgustingly easy. Dr. Wily's stomach churned.

This… everything about this was wrong.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" The younger Wily grumbled. "Every time I've tried to reprogram this little pest, he always manages to break free."

What he wanted to say was 'And every time you build eight Robot Masters and take a swing at world domination, it fails catastrophically, but that hasn't stopped you yet.'

What he said instead was, "of course it will work. For one thing, I'm a _much_ better programmer than I used to be." A not so subtle dig at his younger self, who glared at him. "For another thing… your tactics always involve force. Rock doesn't trust you and he fights your code… invasive, treacherous code. He knows it's corrupt so he resists from the word 'go'. What I've written here? Is like mouse bait, tantalizing and deadly. He'll eat it up without a second thought."

Wily clasped his hands behind his head, fingers interwoven, evil smirk on his face. Under his regret and shame was an old familiar feeling. Oh, and it felt _so_ good. He'd missed this. He hadn't even realized how badly he missed it. It was a little terrifying how easy it was to slip right back into the villainy he'd abandoned so long ago.

"Actually, let me correct myself. The reprogramming will work. What happens after that is on you."

The young Wily nodded.

And he would blow it, he would surely blow it, because there was no chance he'd win. There was never a chance.

Did it really matter, though?

Wily was starting to realize that it wasn't so much that he wanted to win. It was the game itself he loved, win or lose.

* * *

When it was all said and done, the younger Wily took his prize and scurried back from whence he came.

"Don't forget!" Had been Wily's parting words. "…and when he asks, just give him the damned rebuild."

"What?" Too late, he was already fading through the time warp.

In the quiet, dimly lit computer lab, Wily went and sat on the edge of the terminal next to Bass.

"I did it. I can't help you, I can't fix this. But I stopped it from happening again."

At the cost of everything that ever mattered to Thomas Light, the man he'd hurt so many times before, the man he owed so much to, the man he could never repay.

It was a hideous betrayal.

He'd sacrificed Light's son in order to save his own.

But faced with such a terrible choice…

…what father wouldn't do the same?

* * *

Damn this double crossing, back-stabbing robot. Who did Bass think he was, anyway?

Dr. Wily had put up with a lot from him, far more than he ever should have put up with. His concession hadn't earned him any cooperation… it only emboldened Bass to act even worse.

This latest thing with King was the final straw. Wily'd had to grovel and beg and then lie through his teeth.

Enough was enough.

He was in the middle of reprogramming the ungrateful, unruly little bastard when inspiration struck. Mega Man had always been able to fight off his reprogramming, and if anything, Bass was a thousand times more stubborn than Mega Man. Wily realized he should have a backup plan, just in case. If he included a fail-safe, he might not get Bass's compliance, but at least he'd have some insurance that this out of control robot wouldn't kill him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, something told him not to.

He had to think about it for a while, but then a memory stirred. Long forgotten, from when he'd traveled to the future. His weak, pathetic older counterpart had helped him create Quint— another stupid, frustrating waste of effort that had failed spectacularly.

Wily had agreed not to use destructive kill-switches. Now he realized it had been Bass they were specifically talking about.

What did that old man know, anyway?

It wasn't like they were in some time loop— at least, not as far as he could tell. It splintered, _his_ future was not that older Wily's present. Or… at least… he was pretty sure that's how it worked. Time travel— real honest-to-God time travel— was a bit of a mess. It was a shock when he'd pulled it off the first time, and it never worked again after that.

Looking down at his injured arm, still in a sling, Wily shook his head. Bass was violent, dangerous, unpredictable. He'd dislocated Wily's shoulder when he threw him across the room. It was impossible for Wily to believe that this was the same robot that old man had so clearly adored. This Bass— _his_ Bass— was awful. Just… awful. Besides, Dr. Albert Wily himself was not that same Dr. Albert Wily. There's no way he'd get so ridiculously attached to a machine. So he wrote up a self-destruct utility, weaving into the very foundation of Bass's programming.

* * *

He couldn't stand the reprogrammed Bass.

Oh, he was much more reasonable, level-headed, respectful. _Obedient_.

But there was no fire, no _zest_. The 'new' Bass was flat and dull and unenthusiastic. He had no drive. He had no tenacity.

Within two weeks Wily found himself putting Bass back on the slab, rolling back his software to the previous version. As much as it pained him to admit, he had no choice but to take the bitter with the sweet.

…but he'd kept the fail-safe loaded, just in case.

* * *

"Hey Wily. What would you say are the top two hardest problems in computer science?"

"Hmmm? Well, I suppose I'd have to say—"

"Naming, cache invalidation, and off-by-one bugs."

It was hard to believe that they had reached such an equilibrium. That there'd been a time where Wily feared for his safety, that Bass would injure his body. That there'd been a time where Bass had feared for his safety, that Wily would ravage his mind. Back then, it seemed impossible that they could ever truly care about one another. Now, it seemed impossible that they'd been so at odds.

Not to say they didn't still have their fights. Or that those fights weren't nasty. On some fundamental level, however, things had changed.

As they shared cheesy jokes and laughed together, in a moment that felt so perfect and right, Wily wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and realized that they'd surpassed engineer and robot and grown to be father and son.

* * *

"_Proto Man!?_"

How on Earth had he got in here? Wily snarled, ready to throw the wrench he was holding, when he froze. Proto Man was carrying Bass in his arms, and instantly Wily's heart sunk. Somehow he knew. It was like getting that call in the middle of the night, the ragged breathing and somber voice on the other side, telling you before a word is spoken that someone has died.

"I found him like this, I don't know how long…"

* * *

He'd forgotten by then the exact circumstances… but somewhere in the back of his mind he kept thinking:

'You were warned about this.'

Even though Wily couldn't quite put his finger on it, it didn't matter— this was his fault. All his fault. He had no one to blame but himself.

The days and weeks that followed were a blur. At first Wily had no idea what to do with himself. He couldn't sleep, he had no appetite. Then inspiration struck and he threw himself into his work, doing the chassis rebuild that Bass had asked for so long ago.

Proto Man returned as the project was nearly finished. Wily was shocked when the Light 'bot began to help. There wasn't much left to do, only a few days worth of work, but with Proto Man's help they were able to knock it out in a matter of hours. Not only was Proto Man fast, he was skilled. The level of detail he put into Bass's hands, the attention to each finger, each nail, was impressive.

When it was done, Wily found himself staring at his robot— no— his son— and realized that Bass would never know. Never see himself without armor on. Never get to admire how intricate each finger and each nail of his hands were.

He sank to the floor, sobbing bitterly.

Without a word Proto Man sat down next to him. He didn't reach out, he didn't even _look_ at Wily, but he was there. Frankly, it was more than Wily deserved.

* * *

Shortly after, he sealed Zero— poor Zero, who had never even been powered on— in a hidden lab, and sequestered Bass to Dr. Light, and turned himself over to the police.

* * *

About two and a half years later Dr. Light— Thomas— came to visit him.

"I don't want to get your hopes up. He's not conscious, I haven't been able to get any sort of response… but he is powering on and staying on," Dr. Light said over the vidscreen. "Startup loads every time, but I can't get any ancillary functions to run…"

* * *

"…and the data drives are recording everything— the memory files are _there_, but he's not able to access them. A shame, really."

"Progress is progress." Wily found himself blinking back tears. Seven years and they'd finally caught a break. "You said you've— you've had two conversations?"

"Oh yes," Dr. Light said with a smile, the screen distorting his features. Cheap prison equipment. "It wasn't just a one-off. I'm sorry I couldn't come out here sooner, Albert—"

"No don't apologize. Hah! I— I can't believe…" He exhaled slowly. "Thank you. _Thank you_. I can never repay you for what you've done."

* * *

"It should execute, but whenever I run the subroutine, that same blasted error—" There was a brief pause, the hum of power generators and drone of computer terminal fans. "Ah, yes. Yes!" The clack of typing and a heavy sigh of relief. "You're a genius."

* * *

Wily had lived a long life, a full life, a _busy_ life, and his memory wasn't what it used to be.

"I can't help your past. But when I destroy Mega Man there will be nothing to stand in my way. I'll rule this miserable planet with an iron fist, and prove once and for all that Dr. Light is nothing but a hack. As for _you_, you can live vicariously through me, knowing that in some timeline you were finally able to show them all."

"Hah ha hah ha ha— thank goodness! Aha ha ha ha!"

"What?"

"It… it's just such a relief… I'm the bad ending. Don't you see? This is _the bad ending_. None of this has to happen!"

There was no way he could've remembered that he'd ever been on the other side of this.

* * *

"…wily?"

"I'm afraid Dr. Wily is indisposed." Dr. Light's voice was warm and soothing, his words kind and reassuring.

Bass looked at him, confused. "but… but what…"

Every once in awhile Dr. Light felt a tickle of malice, a tiny desire to retaliate.

All he had to do was tell the truth.

"He'll be back soon," said Dr. Light. It was a lie. "It's going to be okay." That was also a lie.

"what'd… y-you do… to me…"

"Oh! Oh, no, dear child. No one has done anything to you. You were infected with a _terrible_ virus." More lies. There was no reason to give him that bitter, cruel truth— it wasn't Bass's fault. It wasn't like he'd remember this conversation anyway. "It did some very serious damage to your system, but Wily and I are working together to repair it." Well, that was mostly true.

Bass slowly looked around, then jerked, lost his balance and tumbled to the floor with a loud crash.

"Whoops! That's okay. It's alright. Hang on a second." His fingers flew up to his earpiece. "Roll, can you come and give me a hand with Bass?"

Dr. Light awkwardly knelt down besides the robot. Bass was feisty today, which was a very good sign. It meant he didn't feel too awful, that things were running a little smoother than usual, so he'd probably be awake for a few hours, which was always heartening.

"She'll be here in just a minute."

"how long… my clock… says…"

"Don't worry over that. Your internal clock is glitching. It's a pretty low priority. We'll straighten it out after we've taken care of the big things."

The down side was that when Bass was feeling better he was less likely to take Dr. Light's word at face value. He stared at Dr. Light, who had _clearly_ aged since he last saw him— or rather, the last time Bass could remember seeing him.

"…you're… you're lying…"

Solemn, earnest, Dr. Light took Bass's hand in his. "Yes, I am. Do you want the truth?"

Bass thought it over.

"no."

"Okay." Dr. Light smiled again.

"why have— haven't i… been…"

"Scrapped?"

"mm."

"Oh, that's easy. You see Bass, machines are scrapped when they're broken, because they have no longer have value. But people always have value. It doesn't matter how broken they may be. We don't scrap _people_." He gently cradled the robot's face. "And _that_ is the truth, even if the other things aren't."

Bass was quiet for a moment. "you're such… a dork…"

He chuckled, and looked up as Roll stepped into the room. "Roll, sweetheart, right on time. You take the left and I'll take the right."

"Bass," she said, greeting him as she reached down.

He smiled, ever so slightly, because even facial expressions were so difficult for him.

It was hard for Bass to see Dr. Light as anything but Wily's rival— no matter how long he'd been with Dr. Light, his memory defaulted back to before.

But he'd always had a bit of a 'thing' for Roll. "hey."

"Good to see you all bright eyed and bushy tailed."

"roll. what's… what's a… computer's…" he drifted off, and for a moment it was unclear if he'd be able to continue. Struggling, Bass pressed on. "…fave— favorite… beat?"

"I don't know! What?"

"algo…_rhythms_."

She burst into giggles, bashfully covering her mouth with her hand, as if it were the first time she'd heard it. Roll was good, she pulled off the same joyful laugh every time he told that tired, corny joke.

Dr. Light found her laughter infectious, and he started laughing too, deep and hearty. It wasn't the joke so much as the fact that in spite of it all, Bass was trying to lighten the mood for everyone else.

None of this was easy for Dr. Light. It'd been a struggle ever since that tragic morning, when he woke up to find he'd lost so much…

…The decades long friendship with Wily, that he'd tried so hard to salvage, only to be betrayed one final time.

…His beloved son, Rock. Everything that ever meant anything to him.

Losing Rock was a wound that would never heal. Whenever Dr. Light thought enough time had passed, that the pain had eased up… something would remind him, and the scab would slough off, revealing the festering sore beneath. For a long time he'd thought he would never laugh again, never feel joy again. It was as if part of his soul had been torn away. The world lost its color, food lost its flavor, music lost its melody.

But every once in a while… few and far between, a couple times a month— and then only if they were lucky— when the stars aligned and the digital gods heard their prayers and the computer faeries paid a visit…

There were good days.


End file.
